The Bad Day
by Strudel Ninja
Summary: AU Oneshot. Who would have thought that Sasuke would beg for money, get in a fight with a giant toaster, or even throw a tantrum—is that shirt really worth it? Sasuke thinks so. Back off, Hank, that shirt is MINE! Minicrack. [Sasuke's Shopping Adventure]


A/N: Whims are fun, are they not? This one is longer than most stories I write. I wasn't sure if I liked it, but I think it's okay. Hopefully...

This one's not quite as crackish either, though it's still AU (a teeny bit). But don't worry, I have a few more ideas that were brainstormed in the middle of the night that are definitely going to be fun to write.

**I don't own Naruto.**

**_The Bad Day_**

* * *

Uchiha Sasuke made his way through Konoha mall, searching high and low for something to do. 

His fangirls stalked him, as always, but he'd managed to ditch them by shoving Neji out of _his _hiding spot, into plain view of the rabid beasts. When you can't get Sasuke, get Neji.

He then continued on his merry way, until—

He saw _that._

_That _being the most awesome, spectacular, most fabulous piece of clothing he had ever laid his eyes on.

He rushed to the store window, pushing his face as close as it could go to the glass. Yes, the shirt had the right shade of blue to bring out his hair, the right size, _everything._

He then waltzed into the store, casually going over to where the work of art sat on a rack. He checked the price tag. Only 100 dollars, nothing he couldn't handle. And look, there was only one left, _exactly his size._

Kami-sama must be smiling down on him today.

He grabbed the shirt, making a dignified beeline to the checkout. The teenage girl behind the counter popped her gum obnoxiously.

"Is that all?" She asked impatiently. Sasuke stared at her impassively, although inside, he was doing Scottish jigs with glee.

"Yes." She took the shirt, and scanned it with the scanner. It popped up on the screen as its price, 100 dollars.

He reached behind him to fetch his wallet, when…

He found no wallet.

'Did someone mug me?' No, scratch that. He must have left it at home, right?

After a few minutes, the girl frowned.

"Do you _have _the money, or not?" Sasuke cursed his bad luck.

"…No." He watched as she threw the shirt back behind her, just barely being caught by another worker, who put it on the rack by the window like before. He _needed _that shirt!

A few moments later, the girl poked him in the shoulder.

"If you can't pay, then get out." She pointed to the door. Sasuke sighed defeatedly, trudging out.

Once he was sitting on the bench nearby, he noticed some movement to his side.

A hobo was kneeling on the ground. Hand outstretched, and hat filled with coins. He put two and two together.

'I can't do this… can I?' He peeked at some rich man looking at _his _shirt in the department store. Jealousy and rage overwhelmed him, and he threw all the dignity he had left away.

He marched over to a small tree, where some of his friends were situated.

"Hey, do you have any money?" He asked. It killed him, but he needed to get his shirt.

Naruto looked strangely at him.

"Only a few dollars, but I can lend it to you, if you wa—"

"No, that's okay, Naruto. Keep your money."

He knew he could never take the blond's money, since he had so little to start with. He laid his eyes on Shikamaru, who put his hands up.

"Sorry, Uchiha. I came empty handed." He said, putting his hands back down by his side. Sasuke frowned. Was there any justice in this world?

"Um, hey, Sasuke? If you want to get some money, there's always the choice of getting a job… if you want to." Sasuke glared, but soon, the offer didn't sound so unappealing.

"Right. Thanks." He sped away, scanning the vendors and take-out restaurants located in the food court. Nothing. Not a single Help Wanted sign.

He passed by a store, noticing the delicious scent coming from the area. It smelled of… cinnamon.

"CINNABON! GET YOUR FRESH CINNAMON ROLLS! CINNABON!" shouted a voice. He turned around, and saw a small vendor outlet, with a sign that said 'Cinnabon'. It also had a Help Wanted sign. Today might not be so bad.

He strolled over to the front counter, where a girl around her 30s sized him up as he approached.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," She reached towards her phone, probably in case he asked her out.

"I was wondering if I could apply for a job here? I need a hundred dollars by today, so I can do…" He gulped at the images. "…Chores." The girl looked like Christmas came early.

"You're hired!" She grabbed him by the collar and swung him right over the counter, and before he knew it, had tied an apron around his waist. It was fuschia. Sasuke did _not _look good in fuschia.

"Okay, so here are the toasters, mixers, yadda yadda. You get to operate The Cinnabon's Special Creation. It makes the icing and cinnamon paste. Okay? Okay." She shoved him to the back, where a boy around his age was pushing buttons on an oversized mixer. Some brown substance was swirling inside. He turned to ask the lady something, but she was already preoccupied—texting all her friends.

The boy saw him.

"Hi, I'm Hank!" He greeted, outstretching his hand. Sasuke looked at it distastefully.

"Sasuke." He ignored the hand, which fell limply at its owner's side.

"You new?" Hank asked. Sasuke nodded, beginning to observe just how to operate such a mechanism.

Hank sensed this, and he glared heatedly in Sasuke's direction. The brunette looked confused.

"Wha--?"

"Only _I _can operate this baby! Got it? You go over there, by the toasters."

"But, the lady said--!"

"I don't care. Go away. You can't mess with someone else's property."

Sasuke frowned again. 'He needs a therapist.'

He growled, setting himself up by the toaster machine. He had no idea what to do, but it looked simple enough. Just take out the fresh batch, put in a new one.

The small bell dinged a few times, and he put on the oven gloves on the table next to him. He peered inside the oven, one hand holding the door, while the other reached inside for the… well, whatever he was supposed to grab.

A large cinnamon roll flew out of the oven, hitting him smack dab on the forehead. Its hot surface immediately started burning Sasuke's pale skin, and he dropped everything and started trying to pry the roll off. It was like it had a mind of its own.

Finally, he got the darn thing off, and stamped on it repeatedly, just to make sure it was dead. He now had a red mark just above his eyes.

He eyed the oven, which looked suspiciously like it was laughing at him.

"Oh, I am _so _on to you!" He threatened. The oven spit out another roll, but Sasuke caught it in his hand this time.

"Ha! I'll show you who's—AHH, that's HOT!" He dropped the roll once again, but aimed a kick at the silver machine. It shook, and almost fell over.

"SASUKE!!"

'Uh-oh.'

"What is going _on _here?" The manager lady stormed up to him, shaking him by his collar. What was with this lady and collars?

"I… I…" he stuttered, probably for the first time in his life, too. This lady was scarier than Sakura!

"Yeah, save it. You're hot, but you're fired!" She ripped off his apron, and booted him out the door. He caught a glimpse of Hank chuckling evilly in the back. 'Oh, he is so gonna pay…'

He knew he messed up. Not only did he publicly embarrass himself, but he still didn't have the money!

He looked back over to the department store window, where an empty coat hanger now s—Wait a minute!

He ran to the window, and sure enough, the shirt was gone. Gone. GONE.

"Noooooooooooo!!" He cried, falling to his knees and clutching his head in his hands. His life was _over!_

"Oh, Sasuke-kuuuuuun!"

"Oh, crap."

* * *

He flung open the door to his house, not bothering to take off his shoes. Trudging to the freezer, he grabbed the biggest ice cream container he could find. 

As he sat wallowing in his self-pity, his brother Itachi came home, whistling some dumb tune.

He caught sight of his little brother.

"Oh, hello Sasuke! How was your dayyyyy?" He did a little twirl, before plopping himself next to the other on the couch.

"Sucky."

Itachi frowned. That wasn't the response he had been hoping for.

"And why's that?" He mentally giggled. Did Sasuke know he stole his wallet?

"I had no money, and I wanted to buy this fabulous shirt, but I couldn't afford it, so I asked my friends, like a HOBO, but they didn't have any money and so I got a job at Cinnabon and then this kid bossed me around and then I had to attack an evil oven who kept spitting rolls at me and then I got fired and then someone took the shirt I wanted and THIS ICE CREAM TASTES LIKE CRAP!!"

Itachi blinked.

A few minutes went by.

"When life gets you down, you know what you gotta do?"

_Smack._

"…Er… Sasuke, that's not really what I meant." Itachi whined, cradling his violated face.

"I don't care. And what's the deal with this ice cream? It tastes like cow vomit." He pouted, crossing his arms in front of him childishly.

Itachi sighed, running a hand through his long black hair.

"You do know that's not ice cream, right?"

_Stare._

"Then what is it?" Sasuke asked cautiously.

"Frozen tofu."

"ITACHI!!"

"What, you asked!"

* * *

_**Fin**_

A/N: Yep, definitely not as cracky. I do hope it's not too horrible. And as many people do, I made Itachi OOC. Because it's _fun _that way. Duh. Oh, and Sasuke's a bit melodramatic as well. Mainly because I like him better when he pouts. XD

R&R please.


End file.
